


While they have been eating...

by TygerTyger



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TygerTyger/pseuds/TygerTyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He really hasn't done this before. The Doctor takes River on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While they have been eating...

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a song by The Divine Comedy called "Geronimo" (see what I did there). This was the first thing I wrote when I started writing again after 9 years of nothing.

The Doctor fidgets in his seat in the crowded restaurant; his limbs can’t find anywhere to settle.  His natural clumsiness is amplified in a controlled environment.  He reaches for his water and almost sends the glass careening off the table.  His leg jerks, and the sound of clattering cutlery cuts through the already noisy room, which then turns to look in their direction.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, waving a little at the crowd.

He turns to look across at his date, trying desperately to rein his arms in.  She rolls her eyes, reaches out and captures one of his hands to steady it in her own.  He feels her calm flow through him and his shoulders relax at last. 

“Better?” she asks with a smirk. 

“Vastly,” he replies with a wide, slightly dopey, smile.

“So,” she starts, “a fancy restaurant in Paris in 1921? Should I be expecting a ring in my soufflé?”

“We’re already married River,” he replies dryly.

“A girl can always hope,” she says with a wink, leaning closer.  He grins and looks down at her hand holding his as he grazes her knuckles with his thumb.

“I thought that you would like a romantic night out.”

She observes him somewhat suspiciously. “And you came up with this, all by yourself?”

“Yes!” he lies indignantly.  She raises an eyebrow.

“Well, no, not entirely ‘all by myself’.  I really know less than nothing about this sort of thing, so I asked your father…”

“Oh Sweetie, you really do know nothing!” she interrupts. “You don’t ask a girl’s father what to do with her on a date.  I’m surprised he didn’t knock you out!”

“I know that now, thank you.  It was over the phone–he put me on to Amy.”

“And this was her suggestion?” River is amused now.

“Well, yes, once she had stopped laughing at my asking Rory.  She also called me an idiot.  Again,” he replies sheepishly. 

“She has a point,” River chides and then squeezes his hand reassuringly, “but I do love it, regardless of where the idea came from.  I just wish I had been forewarned, I’m woefully underdressed and not exactly time-appropriate.” She motions to her converse trainers, jeans and jumper.

“You look gorgeous River,” he says earnestly.  She does.  The jumper hugs her in all the right places as her necklace snakes down over it lying casually between her breasts.  He sighs happily as the waiter comes to take their order.

 

*   *   *

 

They leave the restaurant some hours later, River a little drunk on wine, the Doctor a little drunk on her. 

“That tip was far too much,” she scolds lightly. 

“I’m not great with currency,” he says scratching his cheek, “I thought I had approximately the right amount at least?”

“Yes–if five hundred times the value of the bill is approximately right.”

“I really didn’t expect the waiter to faint.  And all of the kissing was a bit, um, awkward.  But they deserved it, it was an excellent meal,” he says, rubbing his hands together.

It had started to rain torrentially while they were eating and doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon.  “Oh, it’s really coming down,” River remarks, leaning her head out of the doorway. 

“Indeed.” He takes her hand and caresses it, feeling its lightness and breathing in the scent of her on the night air.  She looks up at him fondly and a feeling of tenderness wells inside her.

“Well, neither one of us has anything vaguely waterproof to wear,” he shrugs, “I suppose we’re just going to have to peg-it.” His face is now full of mischief.  She bites her lip, a little giddy, and glad now that she is wearing trainers. 

 

*   *   *

 

“Geronimo!” they scream as the run for the TARDIS, which is inconveniently parked a mile away for the purposes of a romantic post-dinner stroll.  The rain is freezing, falling in great heavy drops.  They have barely started running and are already drenched.  River’s hair is falling in dark heavy spirals down her back.  Her face is alive with delight as she looks up at her running partner and sees the same expression reflected back, illuminated in the streetlight.  Her hearts thud even faster as a result.  The Doctor feels as though he would giggle if he could only spare the breath. 

He slips his arm around her waist pulling her closer as they veer around the corner and he leads her through the TARDIS doors.  Soaked through, but happy, they squelch up the stairs and through the door of the study.  The room before them makes a welcome sight: the fire is lit and is throwing dancing flickering shapes out onto the hearthrug.  They turn to each other with wide smiles and the TARDIS hums, she is looking after them as usual.

River pulls off her jumper and flings it in the corner, writing it off as most likely ruined.  The Doctor tuts, picks it up and hangs it on a chair.  He goes to get some blankets and towels.  River kicks her trainers off and peels off her wet jeans, leaving them on the chair next to her retrieved jumper.  She makes herself coffee and sits on the hearthrug watching the flicker of the coals.  The Doctor returns wearing a bathrobe and sees her there, her skin glowing amber, sitting with her now bare legs curled to her chest.  She is cradling her coffee cup singing a song he doesn’t recognise, but it is beautiful.  _She_ is beautiful.  He remembers himself and approaches her with a soft blanket.  He wraps it around her, tenderly caressing her shoulders and lifting her wet curls out from underneath.  Sitting behind her he squeezes her hair into a towel and gently dries it.  She reclines into him, still singing softly.  He strokes her warming cheek with his knuckles and kisses the top of her head.

He may know less than nothing about romance, but he is certain that this more than qualifies.


End file.
